Page 109 of Falling Like Stars

“Please Zach. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

“You’re right,” I say. “It won’t.”

Chapter Thirty

“ARE YOU OKAY?” J.J. asks and sips her wine. She sits at the kitchen counter in the huge house on a barstool from a mismatched set that used to be in my West Hollywood apartment. The open-concept space gives us a great view of the pool, lit from within. Beyond, the city glitters under a full moon.

“Me? I’m fine,” I say, chopping vegetables for the salad with a little more vigor than necessary. “I mean, I want to murder her, but…”

“He’s going to be okay, babe.”

“I know,” I say. “But God, he has to go to an emergency plastic surgeon before he can come home. He tells me it’s not that bad, but even so. It hurts me that she hurt him.”

“Of course.” JJ blows air from her puffed cheeks. “But wow, what a wild scene. Have you read the latest Scandal Sheet?”

“No,” I say quickly, and resume reducing lengths of carrots into little cubes. “Never again. Tabloids take one little piece of the truth and build a story of lies around it. But jeez, this all went down yesterday. How do they get their info so fast?”

“Who knows? But I read it, so you don’t have to, and they were not kind to Eva,” J.J. says. “I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. And if it makes you feel better, they said of you, ‘the internet’s boyfriend finally has a worthy girlfriend.’”

I smirk. “I was a homewrecker a minute ago. Just goes to show it’s all bullshit.”

“Get used to it, sister,” J.J. says. “If you’re going to be with someone like Zachary Butler, you’re going to have to put up with a metric crap-ton of Hollywood phoniness.”

“He’s worth it.”

“And you are positively smitten,” she says, reading my face.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not used to being happy.”

“God, girl, don’t be sorry. You’re overdue.”

“Thanks, Jess. I just don’t want to be obnoxious about it in front of you.”

“Why? Oh, because Ed and me are kaput?” J.J. waves a hand. “I’ll bounce back. In the meanwhile, you’ll be my inspiration.” She glances around the immense house. “I mean…look at this place.”

I take a second to appreciate my new surroundings. The house is bigger than anything I’ve ever lived in before, that’s for sure, but Zach chose well. The floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves—empty but for Zach’s Oscar—the huge fireplace, exposed beams and old chandeliers all give it a warm, homey feel. Zach’s assistant, Andrew, arranged to get Zach’s stuff out of that damn hotel room. I couldn’t stand the idea of him living there for one more minute. And because Andrew is superhumanly efficient and capable, he also had a team of guys move some of my things out of my place. Now this house—our house—has a bed, mismatched barstools, and a table to eat on tonight. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

J.J. checks her watch. “When is Zach getting in?”

“Around nine tonight,” I say, putting the bread in the oven. “So, about an hour.”

“I’ll make sure to scoot well before then. You two need your alone time. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”

“True. I still don’t know all the details, but he said to expect a phone call from Avignon’s production department. But I’m not really thinking of that. I just want him to come home.”

J.J. smiles. “There’s that word again.”

“I know, it’s crazy, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m on solid ground.”

She reaches across the counter to touch my hand. “I’m so glad. You deserve it. I mean, I’ve always wanted you to stop dating losers and find yourself a good man.” She arches a brow. “The world’s most famous gazillionaire movie star wasn’t what I had in mind.”

I grin. “You think maybe I overshot it?”

“Just a bit.” J.J. laughs.

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